


blood sacrifice

by thanatopis



Category: Devilman (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Extremely Dubious Consent, M/M, Other, Ryo Will Do Anything For Akira: The Movie, Virgin Sacrifice
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-01
Updated: 2018-07-01
Packaged: 2019-05-31 21:52:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15128558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thanatopis/pseuds/thanatopis
Summary: It takes more than a host for Amon to begin to feel satisfied. He is a devil, and therefore, is amoral and greedy. Ryo knows this, but somehow still overlooked himself as a another possibility.





	blood sacrifice

The sense of relief Ryo feels is indescribable when he realizes Amon has managed to possess Akira. It surges through his battered body like a pure, white-hot rush; his chest heaves and his eyes sting, the sensation overwhelming and unfamiliar.

Ryo cannot find his voice to scream Akira’s name. He wants to reach out, to escape the pressure that has him immobile, but the best he can do is pant and wheeze as he watches Akira easily tear a demon apart horizontally like it’s nothing more than a blade of grass.

 _Finally_ , Ryo thinks, his hands clenching into fists, _nothing can touch you now, Akira—you’ll be safe._

Akira turns his gaze onto Ryo then, sharp and unhinged, as if his thoughts have been heard. It steals Ryo’s breath entirely, and he can do nothing more than gawk at this perfected Akira—this _monster_ he’s created—as he deliberately stalks towards Ryo, his movements smooth and dangerous. Ryo’s not sure he blinks the entire time. He’s caught like a fish on a hook, utterly stunned.

“The prodigal son,” Akira growls as he acknowledges Ryo. “Are you pleased?” He asks mockingly, crouching those powerful legs so he can look upon Ryo and observe him at a better vantage point.

There is something wrong about his voice. The sound is similar to an echo in a large hall, with how the note rings out and layers over one another, creating a chorus of the same tenor, but in a different pitch. There is another voice that accompanies Akira’s own, darkening and deepening his voice, setting it on edge with the promise of depravity.

Ryo swallows heavily, realization coming to him.

“Amon,” Ryo affirms, more for himself than anything. He’s never been face to face with a demon before, especially not one of such prominence. He’d researched demon possession at great lengths in preparation for this moment, but Ryo finds, that for the first time, he’s out of his depth. “Is—” Ryo grits teeth against a sharp pain that shoots through his leg as he tries to wiggle out from under the weight that has him pinned. Panic, unlike anything he’s ever felt, settles deep in Ryo’s gut. “The boy— _Akira_ —is he still—”

“He is here,” Amon confirms, sounding bored, “and painfully pure of heart—it’s sickening.” His face scrunches up into something resembling disgust as he easily throws the load off Ryo’s body. He hears it hit the farthest wall with a sickening crunch and can finally breathe easier.

Amon towers over Ryo, large and imposing, and he grins, feral, when Ryo manages to right himself into a sitting position, ignoring the pain in his leg and arm.

“I have done this great thing for you,” Amon begins, leaning close, so close that Ryo can feel the heat of his breath against his face, “a favor needs to be returned in earnest prodigal, or else I’ll smother this human down so deep that he’ll never see the light of day again. He’ll burn in hell-flame for eternity, and it would be all your fault.”

Ryo’s mouth pinches with displeasure at the threat. Human or demon, Ryo has never taken kindly to being intimidated or menaced. His eyes narrow, gaze akin to daggers for how sharp they pierce into Amon.

“What else,” Ryo says, trying not to gnash his teeth, “could you possibly want?”

Amon hums, low and pleased. There’s something about the sound that sets Ryo on edge, and he shifts in response to the feeling, however, he refuses to break eye contact no matter what his instincts shout at him to do.

“‘What else can _I_ do,’ should have been what you asked.” Amon husks. Ryo startles when Amon lowers onto his knees; his body is _burning_ , radiating heat that seeps through Ryo’s puffy coat and begins to roast him alive. Unconsciously, Ryo begins moving to ease the scorching heat. He removes his coat, struggling with how his arm aches, but he manages to worm the appendage out of the sleeve with a relieved sigh, sweat dotting his brow, making his hair stick to his skin. Ryo blinks sluggishly, realizing belatedly that he’s on his back, and Amon is hovering over him, greedy glint shining like a beacon in those dark eyes.

Suddenly, Ryo understands.

“What more could I ask for?” Amon asks. He hovers above Ryo, caging his smaller body easily in between his the thick, fuzzy, muscled arms. “A sacrifice pillowed on a blanket of white, ready to be deflowered.” He chuckles, cruel. “How poetic.”

Ryo’s lips part, ready to refute that Akira is a sacrifice enough, when Amon’s tongue reaches out and licks a broad stripe of blood along Ryo’s cheek. He gasps, body arching involuntarily as an intoxicating sensation courses through his veins, igniting his blood and rushing south towards his cock, where it begins to fill. That’s all it takes for Amon, who demands the space in between Ryo’s thighs and takes it. To Ryo’s own mortification, he gives it to him, eagerly, spreading his legs wide.

There’s some unknown chemical reaction occurring that’s making Ryo’s body so reactive and susceptible to the roughest of touches. He can’t gather enough air into his lungs, gasping around his heavy breaths that make his chest heave. Amon shucks Ryo’s shirt up to rest under his armpits, his claws stinging against Ryo’s skin, opening careful, little cuts that run parallel of each other. Ryo hisses, yet still pushes into the touch, despite the war being waged between his body and mind.

Amon grins, pleased, all his jagged teeth on display. Ryo wants to punch him but moans instead when Amon’s long tongue flicks against his nipple, while the pointed claw of his thumb teases at the other one. Ryo gulps, throwing his head back with a whine.

The next several minutes pass in a heated daze.

Ryo’s mind is a thick, heavy fog of arousal, the effects of it like a drug, and he forgets himself—forgets everything that doesn’t involve the considerable pressure of a fat cock splitting his body in half, fucking Ryo on his own sacrificial alter.

He becomes aware in fractured moments. A glimpse of himself with his legs held above him, calves resting on Amon’s shoulders as his ass is pounded, while another has him bouncing up and down in Amon’s lap, claws puncturing his sides. He comes on his hands and knees; he comes while being held up in the air, repeatedly impaled on Amon’s cock, and continues to come until the slap of their skin is filthy wet and his coat is soaked.

Belatedly, Ryo realizes he’s crying, begging for Amon to stop because it’s too much, and it feels like he’s going to burst at the seams. Amon just laughs, pivoting his hips harder as if to punish Ryo for having dared asked. Ryo cries out and his body goes lax as Amon uses him. He goes a bit mad in that moment, sure this is how he’ll die.

Ryo wakes an unspecified amount of time later. His entire body aches and smells like debauchery. He feels filthy, sore in the most unreachable of places, and exhausted enough to be tempted to lay his head back down and sleep his life away.

There are things to be done, however.

Ryo takes a second to reorient himself, organizing for the next move in his plan. He turns his head weakly, spotting Akira’s form, sprawled out a couple of feet from Ryo, completely naked and snoring like a buzz saw. It is undeniable that Akira has drastically changed, and yet Ryo is still able to find his beloved friend in those sharp angles of his features.

 _Yes,_ Ryo thinks, _this was worth it—Akira was worth it, and more_.

The next phase begins.


End file.
